


Unsteady

by stayingwhelmed



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Family, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family, more tags will be added as chapters are posted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 02:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12379185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stayingwhelmed/pseuds/stayingwhelmed
Summary: “Iverson was just frustrated, Lance. I’ve only been here for a day and I already know his reputation. He didn’t mean it,” Pidge murmurs, uncharacteristically patient. Typically she isn’t one for comforting others—that’s Matt’s territory—but for some reason, even though her relationship with Lance has been purely antagonistic so far, she isn’t uncomfortable.(5 times Pidge helped her friends +1 time they helped her)





	1. Lance

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I’d be writing fics for vld, but I guess the Holt siblings reunion ruined my resolve because I’ve been inspired to write more! And I learned my lesson from Deals with the Devil--this time I’ve outlined in detail every chapter and will hopefully be posting once a week. Enjoy!

_I’m in_.

Katie—Pidge—knows that this is only the beginning, but she can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Getting into the Galaxy Garrison at fourteen years old, successfully faking her medical records, and passing as a boy are things she’s pretty sure she’s allowed to be proud of. Matt would’ve been proud. And then he probably would’ve given her an hour-long lecture about how deliberately tricking the commanders at the Garrison is a ‘breach of national security bordering on treason’ and ‘just because she can, doesn’t mean she should’, bla bla bla. Honestly, as the one who snuck behind the Garrison’s back to talk to Dad, he can really be a hypocrite when it comes to the stuff _Pidge_ does sometimes. Well, Matt’s the reason she's having to take such extreme measures, so she figures he’ll be okay with it when she eventually finds and tells him.

The retreating taps of footsteps indicate that whoever’s patrolling the corridors outside her room has turned the corner, so Pidge pulls her earbuds out and tucks them into her sweatshirt pocket with a smirk. She’s only been here for a day, and already she has audio surveillance set up in her dorm. It’s a real bonus that she doesn’t have to explain this away to a roommate—due to her age, she’s been given certain allowances, including having a dorm to herself. Wouldn’t want the older cadets corrupting such a promising, impressionable kid, of course. Pidge opens her door a crack, glances out to double-check that there is nobody nearby, and slings her backpack filled with prototype scanning technology over her shoulder.

_Go time._

For a military base bent on improving its security, navigating the Garrison’s corridors without being seen is a piece of cake. Every single goody-goody cadet is in bed, and the security officers are lethargic and bored. Pidge avoids them with almost disturbing ease, ducking into corners and behind large containers when anyone approaches. She makes it to the nearest exit without any trouble and takes out a small tablet of her own invention, activates her shiny new app, and waits for it to disable the security on the door. This is the tricky part. No matter how lackluster the interior security is, the Garrison is still a military base and heavily guarded by advanced technology. Sneaking outside is a real challenge. Actually, Pidge would rather disable the cameras on the roof and work up there, but she hasn’t quite figured out how to do that yet. So for now, the plan is to break out every night and find a spot in the desert where she can’t be seen.

At last, her device emits a quiet beep, and Pidge can’t hold back a grim, triumphant smile as she pushes the door open without setting off any alarms. Glancing behind her, she slips outside. _If Dad and Matt could see me now…_ As she turns around, Pidge collides into something—someone. “Oof.”

That someone lets out a startled yelp. “It’s not what it looks like, I’m just—! Oh. Pidge?”

“Lance,” Pidge sighs. “That was close.” She furrows her brow. “How did someone like you get past the Garrison’s security system?”

“I stole a pass from a guard and—wait, what do you mean, _someone like me_?”

Pidge ignores him. “Huh. I should’ve thought of that. Would’ve been easier than writing a program to override the alarms,” she mutters. “Anyway, I gotta go. See you tomorrow at breakfast.”

“Hold on!” It’s Pidge’s turn to yelp as she’s yanked backwards by her backpack. “Did you just say you _hacked_ the Garrison’s security? Where are you going? You aren’t deserting or anything, right?”

Pidge scowls and resettles her backpack. “No, I’m just getting some fresh air.” That isn’t good enough of an excuse for going through so much trouble to get outside. “I’ve always loved stars and there’s so little light pollution here, you know? The backpack is for, um, stargazing equipment. Just wanted to see the night sky here. So yes, I hacked the alarms.” She shrugs. “Besides, what are _you_ doing out here?”

“Ah, same as you.” Lance shifts uncomfortably, and Pidge raises an eyebrow. Before Lance can react, she shoves the glow of her tablet in his face to read his expression.

“Wait—have you been _crying_?”

“What? No!” Lance makes a hysterical noise that could have passed for a laugh. “Why would you think that?”

Pidge frowns. “Your eyes are red and your nose is running.” She unzips a side pocket on her backpack and fumbles for a packet of tissues. “Here.” Lance takes it with much less gratitude than Pidge would have appreciated.

“I have allergies,” he says.

“Right.” Pidge fidgets with the edges of her tablet, torn between saying more or continuing with her plans. She glances at Lance’s expression in the dim moonlight and sighs. “So you definitely weren’t crying… but how are you doing? Iverson was being a real dick to you earlier.” Lance blinks.

“Wow, and Hunk told me I shouldn’t swear around you.”

“I’m fourteen, not four,” Pidge grumbles. “But really. Today’s failed simulation wasn’t completely your fault. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, the crash wasn’t the _pilot’s_ fault.” Lance lets out a low exhale and moves to sit, his back braced against the wall by the door. Pidge sits beside him. “I was just—I was _so ready_ for this. I was so excited to tell my family.”

Pidge feels herself softening against her will. “Hey…”

“But no, I’m fine.” Lance interrupts. “It’s all good; I was just told that trying to be a fighter pilot was pointless and I’m only here because the other guy was expelled. You know, standard stuff. Just another day at the Garrison!” He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Seriously, I’m okay,” he says again, his voice muffled.

“Iverson was just frustrated, Lance.” Pidge is really starting to hate that man. At least she gets the satisfaction of sneaking back into his base under his nose. “I’ve only been here for a day and I already know his reputation. He didn’t mean it,” she murmurs, uncharacteristically patient. Typically she isn’t one for comforting others—that’s Matt’s territory—but for some reason, even though her relationship with Lance has been purely antagonistic so far, she isn’t uncomfortable.

“I know, I know, but it’s just… what if he’s right? What if I do end up being an awful fighter pilot and flunking out and end up having to go back to my family as a dropout? Which, honestly, wouldn’t be awful, because I miss them like hell, but I can’t—I can’t—”

“Hey. Slow down; rambling is my thing.” Pidge nudges him until he looks back up. “Okay, so, my dad used to—my dad always says this thing. ‘If you get too worried about what could go wrong, you might miss a chance to do something great.’ And I think he’s right. You’ve got this if you don’t think about it too much. Fuck Iverson.” Lance remains silent for a full minute before he speaks up.

“Nah, I’m good. He’s a little old for me.”

It surprises a laugh out of Pidge. She grins at him, coming to a decision. Her tech needs some adjusting anyways, and she can do that in her room as well as she can do it in the desert. “Okay, come on.” She jumps to her feet and nearly falls over. She’d forgotten about the backpack.

“Come on where?” Lance gets up anyway, brow furrowed.

“We’re getting off campus and going downtown. What, isn’t this what you wanted to do earlier? Check out the babes, watch a movie or something, get some edible food?” _Those Garrison chefs really know how to genetically manufacture a delicious vegetable._ No. No, Pidge is not going to think about her dad right now. She can do that later, when she’s in bed and alone with her thoughts.

“Oh, of course. Gotta show the newbie around.” Lance agrees, insouciant arrogance back in his tone. Pidge rolls her eyes. “Now, the best way to sneak off campus—” Pidge clears her throat and holds up her tablet. “Nevermind.”

They head towards the edge of campus, sticking to the shadows. “Okay so the nearest town has this _amazing_ arcade that’s somehow still in business. Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re a kid,” Lance whispers.

Pidge touches her screen to start the hacking process. “Oh, you are going to get your ass handed to you like you would not _believe_.”

 

\---

 

Three prizes, two thousand points, and one hour later, Pidge and Lance are racing back to the Garrison, peals of laughter probably waking up everyone within a ten mile radius. Once they get closer to the base, Pidge has to elbow Lance four times before he finally pipes down.

“ _Ow._ ” Lance rubs his side reproachfully. Pidge shrugs, wicked glint in her eye. Lance shakes his head. “Hey, Pidge?”

Pidge looks up at the change in tone. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Pidge just smiles at him in return, and they walk in companionable silence the rest of the way back to the barracks.

“So, one last thing before we go back to bed: you up for scaring Hunk to death with these masks we won?” Lance holds up the two vaguely creepy lion masks they had picked out of the shitty prizes available at the arcade. A grin is spreading across his face again. Pidge can't help herself. She bounces on the balls of her feet.

“Do you even _know_ me?!”

“Mm yeah, not really? I met you today, Pidgeon.”

“ _Hell_ yes.”


	2. Hunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I KNOW I said once a week and now it’s like three months later but. um. I don’t really have a good excuse.
> 
> Anyway. Here’s the very belated second chapter, hope you guys like it (I’M SORRY)

It starts like any other post-battle dinner on the Castle-ship.

Pidge, Keith, Lance, and Hunk are slumped before the dining table in varying stages of exhaustion. Shiro’s talking strategy with Allura a few rooms away. Coran, after giving an enthusiastic speech to celebrate the fact that nobody had to go into a cryopod today, has retired for the night. Post-battle dinners are becoming routine, and this one is no different than the others.

Except Hunk is picking at his food. Hunk, who will gulp down Coran’s inedible cooking while complaining about it, who is typically at his most ravenous after a battle, is picking at his food.

At first, nobody notices. But the soft clinking of Hunk’s fork against his plate is the only sound in the hall, and before long three pairs of eyes become trained on the offending silverware.

“Hey, Hunk, bud, you okay?” In lieu of, well, Hunk, and with Shiro talking strategy with Allura a few rooms away, Lance automatically assumes the role of Resident Mother Hen.

“Mm?” Hunk looks up distractedly. “Oh, yeah, yep, I’m good.” He glances down at his plate. “Just not that hungry tonight. Actually, um, I think I’m gonna go to bed early. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” The legs of his chair squeak against the floor as he stands up and leaves with a halfhearted wave.

Pidge exchanges a look with Keith and Lance. Lance begins to rise, but Pidge shakes her head at him.

“I’ve got this,” she mutters. “You two keep making those disgusting heart eyes at each other.” She grabs a couple things and leaves them to splutter behind her.

 

\---

 

“Hunk, are you asleep?” Pidge yells through the door. She barely waits for a response before resuming her banging on it. It slides open, and she just catches herself from falling through the doorway.

“Geez, Pidge, not anymore. What’s wrong?” Hunk sounds more exasperated than sleepy, though, and Pidge notes with a bit of satisfaction that he hasn’t changed into pajamas yet. It’s doubtful that he’d actually been sleeping.

“Sorry, I’ve got a problem with a project and I need you to help me figure it out,” she explains without a shred of guilt in her tone. Hunk glances down the hallway, as if wary that this is a prank.

“...Right now?”

“ _Yes_ , right now. Come on, I’m so close and I just have to figure out this _one thing_ and then I’ll be done.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Hunk closes the door behind him and follows Pidge towards Green’s hangar.

“Right, so last night I figured out how to download songs and movies from Earth—”

“And you didn’t think to tell the rest of us?” Hunk looks eager now, and Pidge grins at him.

“Well, you were all asleep last night, and we were too busy today. Plus, I wanted to install speakers—well, I call them speakers, but they’re really more like fancy mp3 players—in all your lions as a surprise. That’s where you come in.” They arrive at Green’s hangar, and Pidge takes him to her little workshop against the back wall. “Here’s the speaker. I can’t figure out how to hook it up to Green’s dashboard.”

“Hmm.” Hunk sits down and picks up the device, turning it over in his hands. “Well… what if you tried transferring the data to our helmets instead? I mean, we wear them all the time while piloting anyway.”

Pidge blinks. She actually hadn’t thought to do that. “Wait, that’s perfect! Hey, can you help me do that right now?” She sits beside Hunk, grabbing her laptop to bring up the music she downloaded.

“Yeah, sure!” Hunk is smiling. “You know, I feel kind of hungry now. How about you take apart the speaker and I’ll go grab something from the kitchen—do you want anything?”

“Here.” Pidge flips open the lid of a box filled with a mess of wires and tools that she doesn’t use as much. Carefully placed in the middle is a plate of tonight’s dinner, untouched among the clutter.

“You brought my dinner to Green’s hangar? Wait…” Hunk gives her a suspicious look. “You didn’t actually need my help, did you.”

“Nah,” Pidge grins. “I already installed a speaker in Green. I do like your idea. We don’t have to work on it now, though.” She shrugs. “You feel better whenever you help people.”

Hunk stares. “I should’ve seen this coming.”

“Oh, come on. You _do_ feel better now?”

“Yeah,” he grumbles.

“Knew it. Your ‘help the small one’ instinct always kicks in. It’s like, the first thing on your spreadsheet.” Pidge leans back on her hands, smug.

“My _what_.”

“What.”

Hunk squints at her. When she doesn’t elaborate, he reaches for the plate. Pidge watches him nom out of the corner of her eye.

“So… do you want to talk about what was bothering you?”

“I dunno.” Hunk chews and swallows.

“Do I need to go find a high shelf I can’t reach?” The joke is feeble, even to Pidge’s own ears, and she doesn’t blame Hunk when he doesn’t acknowledge it. He seems to be attempting telepathic communication with a screwdriver previously hidden underneath the plate of food.

“I… I killed a guy today,” he says at last, dropping his gaze to his lap. He clears his throat and rushes to continue before Pidge can say anything. “I mean, yeah, I know it’s a war, and we kill people all the time. I know that when we explode enemy ships there probably aren’t a lot of survivors. But,” Hunk falters to a stop, and Pidge silently hands him the screwdriver. He fiddles with the ridges on the handle. “But this time, for whatever reason, the Galra soldier didn’t have his helmet on. And for a second, our eyes _locked_. And then he raised his gun, and I just—I just—”

“You just did what you had to.”

“To save my own skin, yeah. I mean… we’ve all read those books and done those reports in school. War makes people lose their humanity sometimes. I don’t… I don’t want to lose mine.”

There isn’t really a good response to that, so they lapse into silence. Pidge opens a file on her laptop, and Hunk begins messing with a bit of hardware on her worktable. Pidge has never really been a people person. She’s not very experienced in the friend department, mostly because her childhood peers just weren’t as interesting as robots and the cosmos were. All she can do is wait until he is ready to talk again.

“How do you cope?”

Pidge untangles a faulty line of code, considering the question. “Well, I try to think of it as a video game. Like a really well-developed VR game.  It’s stupid, but it kind of works for me.” She shrugs. “And I just try to dial up all the awesomeness and focus on that instead of, you know.”

“The we’re-child-soldiers-in-an-intergalactic-war part.”

Pidge snorts. “Speak for yourself. I’m not a ‘child’ anything.” Hunk offers a halfhearted chuckle. “But… yeah. Like… I focus on what I love about all this. The robots, the advanced tech, exploring outer space and encountering things that dismantle astrophysicists’ theories.” She looks at Hunk pointedly. “We’re in a crazy situation, but there’s a lot of good in it too, don’t you think?”

“I mean… I love that we get to reach out to other people on other planets.”

Pidge elbows him. “You love Shay.”

“Shay’s pretty great.” Hunk smiles to himself. “And… I love that I’ve gotten used to flying.”

“Iverson wouldn’t recognize you,” Pidge agrees with a grin.

“Yeah… and I love Yellow. I love experimenting with Altean food.” He places the screwdriver on the floor beside  Pidge’s laptop. “I love all you guys.”

Something softens in Pidge’s chest. Something warm that makes her want to sniffle and give Hunk a hug and grab the rest of her new, wonderful friends and never let them go. Instead she looks up with a teasing grin. “Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.” Hunk just shakes his head at her, bemused.

 

\---

 

The next morning, Coran finds the two of them slumped over each other, Pidge’s glasses askew and Hunk clutching her like a teddy bear. Coran drapes a blanket over them—but not before taking a picture. For the Castle-ship’s official records, of course.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment maybe? I crave that validation like hunk deserves character development


End file.
